Only at night do they come out of the underground, of their ***** creeks
And is in darkness that they truly thrive in.
Waiting for the awakening,
They don't sleep.
Quietly waiting for the sun to set,
So they can fully rejoice eating each other's flesh.
You can almost feel the desperation in their hisses watching as the moon becomes their God,
Worshiping the darkness as it embraces and consumes the above.
Anxiously anticipating the souvenirs of the night,
Savoring how they will carve and engrave each other's eyes.
In plain daylight, you can almost smell the poignant stench they bathe on,
As they helplessly conceal the guilt from their nocturnal hunts.
As the city lives they remain thirsty animals, among their own, among cannibals.
And only when scarce shadows pace the empty streets,
Do they indulge in it for what it tuly is,
And can be who they truly are:
Rodents, hiding in the dark.
AM
